


Breaks are Mandatory for all Parties

by Bass0w0n, TexWash



Series: A Love Letter to Fox's Fat Tiddies [12]
Category: Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Can be read as Ponds/Windu, Cuddling & Snuggling, Gen, M/M, Multiple Authors, No Beta, No Beta We Die Like Clones, Platonic Cuddling, Rec Rooms are cozy okay, The Painted Universe, This took far longer than it needed to, Unconfirmed
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-13
Updated: 2020-09-13
Packaged: 2021-03-06 15:54:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,136
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26451427
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bass0w0n/pseuds/Bass0w0n, https://archiveofourown.org/users/TexWash/pseuds/TexWash
Summary: More often than not it's the Clone Captains and Commanders dragging off their Jettise for a much-needed nap. For the 91st, this was hardly the case.
Relationships: CC-6454 | Ponds & Mace Windu, CC-6454 | Ponds/Mace Windu [implied]
Series: A Love Letter to Fox's Fat Tiddies [12]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1843276
Comments: 12
Kudos: 122





	Breaks are Mandatory for all Parties

**Author's Note:**

> So... this was supposed to be posted right after Bly's Ass...  
>  _Clearly that didn't happen._

Mace isn’t the kind of Jedi who socialized with the Clones often, although he has been proven to care about his men and their well being. Despite this, Mace seems to have a certain favoritism towards a particular Commander, whom he almost exclusively talks to when not with the Jedi Council or other Masters. This has resulted in Ponds being referred to as Windu’s Favorite [or Windu’s Bitch, according to his squadmates], something that is teasingly whispered to the Commander as his General calls him over from where he was speaking with his Brothers.

“Commander,” Mace stood tall as he spoke directly to Ponds, “A word, if I may intrude.” Ponds, quite confident on what this was about, promptly steeled himself for whatever was about to be verbally thrown at him as he pardoned himself from the few Soft Shells he’d been conversing with.

“Sir,” Mace begins to exit the wreck room where he had acquired the Commander as Ponds dutifully follows him down the hall, shutting off the datapad in his hand. “General, if this is about the requishion issues we’ve been having, I’m working to handle it with help from the Soft Shells on Zeta-12. The Station itself is enroute to our next engagement and I’d thought that having a few more provisions would prove tactful with the odd environment our scanners picked up on. If you’d like, I can pull up the information we’ve acquired from the sentinels we sent down there this morning. Sargent Hutch was confident in their jury-rigging, but I for one would prefer another set of eyes just to triple check the rea-”

“You’re overworking yourself, Ponds.” Mace says in a surprisingly gentle tone, the smile clear in his voice. This catches Ponds _completely off guard_ , practically tripping over his own feet as he throws a questioning expression towards his General. Having only minor issues with keeping pace alongside the long legged Jedi.

“s-Sir?” 

“Ponds, you and the men have been working very hard, but I am concerned that you don’t exactly know how to take a break.” Mace doesn’t even break stride as he says this, and Ponds is seriously considering his options of either dragging his Jetti to Medical or suicide. _He’s leaning more towards the latter._

“General, I’m afraid I don't know what you mean? The men have leave scheduled after this engagement, plus the time we spend in hyperspace gives them plenty of time to rest and gather themselves.” Ponds was about to have a nervous breakdown, there were so many things to do before they had to go planet side and now his Jetti was being _purposefully vague_ with him. Neither of them had time for this.

“Just indulge me for a few minutes.” That damned smirk again. A few minutes, yes Ponds could do a few minutes, but no more than 20 because he still needed to finish the report on why an AT-TE Beetle blew up in the main vehicle bay and destroyed half of their supplies. ONLY twenty minutes. That was all he had to last with Ne’tra Gal. _Right?_

###### 

Turtle was, unfortunately, the poor Vod assigned to find out where the kriff Commander Ponds and General Windu had disappeared off to. The fact that he actually had to use a methodical search pattern for the two was downright di’kutla. This was yet another one of the many moments where he wished to have been stationed on a smaller ship.

Turtle first started with Observation Deck, an obvious place, and came back completely empty, even the softshells had no idea where they were. The Comm Room was next and it was, predictably, empty. The Hanger, Barracks, and Vehicle Depot came up with similar results, although the Mess had some _very interesting hearsay_ , he might have to up check with the latest gossip from the Wolf Pack. But that would have to wait for a time when he wasn’t scouring every physical inch of this huge barreling cruiser for his Gods damned Commanding Officers.

Just as he was about to say “Screw it” he walked in to check one of the, surprisingly, _least likely_ rooms to host people on the ship. An old Wreck room that was far enough away from any of the main parts of the ship that no one made the effort to trek over and, low and behold, _there they were._

Two bodies twined around each other as if they were meant to be one making the most of the rather uncomfortable Republic standard couch. Commander Ponds had his body draped over the High General, wearing absolutely nothing but his skin-tight blacks, _dear gods he needs to stop simping after the Commander_. Ponds armor was neatly stacked just next to the coffee table; while the Jetti was hardly in his under tunics with the way Ponds’ hand had wormed its way between it and warm skin. 

Turtle just stood there, mouth agape. And oh so slowly, the data-pad was slipping from his fingers.

Wait- _datapad slipping from his fingers._

**_Oh kriff_** , Turtle scrambled to catch the falling tablet, flailing desperately to prevent it from shattering into the floor. All for naught. With the loud smack, both of the Commanding Officers jolted upright- Ponds leveling a previously unseen DC-17 Pistol at the poor Corporal.

“S-Sir! It’s just me- it’s Turtle!” The poor vod stood stock straight, hands held up by his face, thumbs hooked into the neck of his Blacks in order to hoist a small bit of it over his mouth in an attempt to hide. The Commander blinked, still waking from his impromptu nap, attempting to force his mind to focus on the being before him.

“Stand down, Ponds.” Mace rubbed at his eyes with his thumb and forefinger, pressing a heavy hand on his Commander’s taught shoulder. Reluctantly, the Clone eased his battle ready form in favor of scowling at the Vod’ika in front of them and then promptly slumping back down to hide his face in Mace’s abdomen, judging by the Jedi moving to accompany a new weight on his legs. 

“Is there something you need, Turtle?” The General seemed completely unperturbed by the Trooper’s sudden appearance or even being found in such a position; _Gods, he was even rubbing small circles into Pond’s back with his thumb._

“U-uh, nothing too important, Sir. I’m sure it can wait until the Commander is-” Turtle flicked a glance back at Ponds’ general location, being hidden by the cushions and Mace’s form, “-/unoccupied/ with his current task.”

“Turtle.” The Commander’s muffled voice.

“Yes, Sir?”

“Get out. Shut up.”

_“Of course, Sir,”_ Turtle, blessidly released from his impromptu torture session, hurried out of the room. He’d never believe it, even if he hadn’t heard the General’s quiet laughter just as the door closed.

_Comet is never gonna believe him._

**Author's Note:**

> **  
> _Mando'a Translations:_  
>  **
> 
> Jetti[se]- Jedi  
> Ne'tra Gal- Black Ale [used as: Tall Dark Drink]  
> Vod[e]- Sibling[s], Brother[s], Sister[s]  
> Kriff- Fuck  
> Di'kutla- Stupid, Useless, Worthless  
> ika- ending meaning Little


End file.
